Germany's fall
by RoseAmy13LunaGinny
Summary: Germany has been killed in battle (or so it seems). Italy, Japan and Prussia are all reeling. They all deal with the pain in unexpected ways. I promise there's a happy ending! England's magic is involved!
1. The Fall

**This is not based off any historical battle. Time-wise its after world war 2, during the cold war era. The ships are going to be Gerita. Sufin, Dennor and Spamano are hinted at. At the end there's some friendship Ameripan. I don't usually ship Ameripan but it worked best for this story. Please review, if you want to point out a mistake or something you don't like. Do so politely and respectfully. Please don't flame, but I appreciate constructive criticism.**

**Chapter 1**

It was mid-august, the heat was intense and the air was still. Italy and Japan stood atop a large hill that looked over the valley the ambush had been staged in. Even from this distance they could smell the destruction the Russian army had inflicted. The air below was thick with smoke; the acrid stench of it was mingled with the smell blood and sweat. Italy and Japan glanced at each other. Japan's usual devoid of emotion face was tinged with worry. Italy's cheerful face had been replaced by one full of fear and concern. They studied the battlefield below. It was obvious who had won. The German's turquoise army uniforms were stained, red with blood and black with the dirt from the Russian soldiers boots, which had trampled many of the bodies. Italy and Japan started making there way down the hill, the small band of Japanese soldiers they had taken with them followed single file. "Do you think he's okay?" Italy muttered to Japan.

"I don't know…" Japan told him, though his eyes said no. Hiking down the hill was strenuous work. It was a steep hill with switchbacks crossing back and forth. The air was thick and hard to breathe in. The smell of the battle was not helping. The bitter air was suffocating and only grew stronger as they small group neared the bottom of the hill. Italy felt himself gag as he reached a particularly strong fume of the choking air. Sweat dripped off Japans back. Italy had already removed his army jacket and was in a black tank top. Japan quickly did the same, for once not caring if he was exposed. As they got closer to the battlefield Italy started to recognize the fallen soldiers. "That was the guy who gave me bratwurst." He thought as he stared at the battered body of the man. He noticed another, "That was the one who made me pasta after I got sick of sausage." He remembered. There was a twitch out of the corner of his eye. He turned around, Japan had his sword drawn in a hurry, "It could be a ringering Russian sordier." He told Italy worriedly. "I don't want to take any chances of any of us getting hurt." They moved towards the man cautiously. As they got closer Italy recognized the pale blonde head

"Germany…" Italy took off towards him faster then when he had retreated from the British army. He ignored Japans heeds of caution. He reached the mans side. There was a large red stain growing quickly on his side, his breathing shallow. "Ludwig?" Italy murmured brushing the mans hair out of his forehead. Ludwig's hair, which was usually slicked back, was brushed forward and caked in dirt, it made him look younger and more innocent. His face was bloody and bruised. His eyes cracked open, they were an icy blue.

"Feli…" Germany croaked. "I-I am sorry…" He trailed off. The heat and smell of the battlefield all faded away as Italy was caught in Germany's icy blue gaze. He stroked his hair out of his face. Ludwig closed his eyes as waves of pain rolled over him. He knew he wouldn't make it. He looked at Italy. His eyes were so sad and helpless. "I-was shot, stomach." He hissed with pain. Even talking hurt the wound the bullet had caused. He could already feel his consciousness slipping away.

"No, Ludwig! Come on stay with me!" Italy's voice cracked tear running down his cheeks. No, he could not lose Ludwig. Everybody he had ever loved died or left him. Holy Rome, Grandpa Rome. He couldn't lose Ludwig too. "You can do it." He encouraged. "You have to do it!" He leaned over Ludwig "I love you."

"I love you too." Ludwig murmured. Feliciano crashed his lips into Ludwig's Ludwig slowly returned the kiss. "Feli, I'm sorry, I can't hold on." Feliciano looked on to the Germans cheeks they were stained with tears his eyes sad with longing. "I will always love you…" Slowly, oh so slowly his eyes closed and his eyes and his breathe stilled. Italy let out a cry like a dying animal. He could feel his heart shattering, his soul being ripped apart by the terribleness of it all.

"NOO! LUDWIG! STAY WITH ME! Stay with me! Stay with me…" He begged, Tears streaming down his face like a never-ending waterfall. "Don't go…" He whispered. He cradled the Germans limp head in his lap. He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. He looked up Japans eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Itary, we have to go" He whisperd. "We have a stretcher…" Italy sobbed harder cradling Germany's head in his lap. The Japanese soldiers looked unusually solemn. They picked up Ludwig's broken and battered body and placed it on the stretcher. Two of them moved to pick it up.

"No. Let me carry it." Everybody looked up shocked to see Italy standing up and speaking with an authoritative voice. Tears still flowing down his cheeks. "I want to carry it." The soldiers moved away and allowed Italy to grab one end of the stretcher. Japan grabbed the other. He barked out orders to the soldiers. They quickly collected more stretchers, which had been littered around the battlefield. They started loading the other soldiers on to them. "We wirr come back for the rest rater." Japan told Italy. Italy nodded numbly. Going up the hill should've been harder then going down. The upward climb would be excruciating. Italy found that the smell, heat or the climb didn't bother him. He was numb and lifeless. Germany was gone. His Ludwig was dead. Shot by a Russian. Italy suddenly felt an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. Anger, he was enraged, Russia had caused this. Russia had ripped his heart out. He looked up at Japan. Japan was also having an emotionally conflicting battle. He was sad, its not that he hadn't experienced sadness before it was just that he usually hid it. He did this to protect himself and to not be impolite. He was having a hard time hiding the tears that threatened to spill over. Germany had been his best friend. He noticed the Italian looking at him. Italy's usual clear hazel eyes were clouded and stormy with rage and sadness. "Itary?" Japan questioned him. The look in Italy's eyes was not the Italy Japan knew. Italy was also surprised by his friend's faces. Japans long eyelashes were wet and his eyes bright with tears. He had a pained expression. The 3-hour hike to the base camp felt quick and effortless even though most of it was uphill. Every step for Italy was nothing compared to the pain in his heart and the battle in his soul. As they neared the base camp the smell of cooking bratwurst wafted over them, the German armies welcome meal. The smell bought another wave of grief over Italy. Ludwig, his Ludwig, should've been walking beside him. He should've been giving Italy a small smile at the prospect of the German meal. He should've been letting Italy ride on his back like he did during long hikes. He should've been here. The happy chatter of the camp grew louder and more excited as they saw the approaching group. It dulled to a worried murmur when they saw what the soldiers were caring. The group walked to the center of the camp where Italy and Japan set Germany down. The crowd fell silent. One of the Italians let out a wail.

"Hey! Let the awesome me through!" Prussia's loud commanding voice was head at the back of the crowd. He pushed his way to the front. First he saw Japans wet eyes, next he looked at Italy's tearstained face. Finally he looked down between them and saw Germany's battered and broken body. "West…" He croaked. His eyes and face showed an emotion not often shown by the older nation, fear and sadness. "What happened? His moment of vulnerability was over and his eyes flashed with anger.

"They were ambushed." Japan told him. "By the Russians." Prussia's face tightened with anger.

"What happened to him!?" Prussia shouted.

"Shot…" Italy looked up. "They shot him… and now he's gone…" He broke off new tears running down his face. These words hit him like a hard blow. Gone…gone… gone… No more Germany…Dead. He turned on his heel and quickly retreated to his tent. His sobs could be heard all night; if you listened closely you could hear small cries coming from Prussia's tent and stuttered teary breathing from Japans.

**So, what do you think? I was almost crying while writing this. Updates will be pretty random. You could go up to weeks with out an update or it could be hours. I will try to update quickly. Please Review! Thanks!**

** -Amy **


	2. The Consequence

**Please don't kill me! I am super duper sorry this is so late! I tried to make it longer an a I realized it takes me forever to write a chapter because my teachers are jerks and give us way too many test and tons of homework. So a month is what to expect for the next update though I will try to be quicker. Also, does anybody speak German? I have some German in this chapter and I used Google translate and my very limited German skills. If you could correct it that would be greatly appreciated. Thank you!**

**Chapter 2**

_The sun was intense and the heat felt like an oven. Germany wiped the sweat that had gathered at his brow. The steady dull marching of hundreds of German troops had left him in a sort of heat daze. His mind wandered constantly, thinking about Italy. He hadn't seen his boyfriend in a month and missed him terribly. He missed is goofy grin and silly stories. He missed his pasta obsession and culinary skills. Everybody got sick of potatoes and wurst eventually. He smiled to him self; thinking about Italy's little auburn curl. Germany realized that he had fallen behind and was currently at the end of the marching soldiers. He heard shout from the front. "Der Grat! Wir sind hier! Halt!" Germany looked up. The ridge Italy had told him to stop at was in sight. It was beautiful ridge. Across from the ridge were purple gray hills. The ridge it self a golden rock with large birch trees surrounding it. He and his army were supposed to wait beneath the ridge until Italy and Japan arrived to take them to the temporary base camp. Germany slid the heavy pack off his back and sat down on it. The heat still felt intense and there wasn't a breeze to cool him. He was glad to longer have the heavy pack rubbing on his back. He rested his eyes for a second. Stretching his legs out so they wouldn't stiffen up. Crack! His eyes flew open; a loud gunshot had sounded nearby. Crack! Another on he stood up and trained his eyes on the hill, where the gunshot had come from. His eyes caught on a harsh gray. The color of the Russian uniforms. "Verteidigungspositionen!" he yelled. The soldiers raised their guns and crouched down in defensive positions. One more shot, "Feuer!" His soldiers let loose a round of shots. The air now stank of gunpowder. One more shot was fired and then hell broke loose. Crack-crack-crack-crack! The harsh ring of the machine guns rang through the valley. The Germans didn't stand a chance. Soldier after soldier fell around Germany. The air now was tinged with the metallic smell of blood. The beautiful hills had been stained red and black. The purple hills now loomed forebodingly. The Russian soldiers ran down the hills whooping and shooting, trampling the bodies in their path. The soldiers around Germany fell; carnage and bloodthirsty Russian soldiers now surrounded him. After a few minutes of heartless slaughter he was the only one left standing. "Hello Germany!" Germany tensed up, he heard the sugar coated voice of Russia. He turned around and his eyes met the lavender eyes of the large nation._

_ "Russia! Vhat is the meaning of this…this SLAUGHTER!" Germany yelled rage and hate coursing through his voice. "THE WAR IS OVER! Why?!" He yelled. His face was red with rage, this was beyond despicable. _

_ "I have big plans." Russia's voice dripped with satisfaction. Germany felt something stir in his chest, fear. Those eyes scared him; the meaning behind those words scared him. He glared at Russia, determined to not let that fear show. Russia smiled thinly. "And you need to be out of the way." Germany looked up. A barrel of a gun was leveled with his forehead. Germany froze, the heat disappeared the smell disappeared. Timed seemed to have stopped, he thought of everything that had happened. He had watched 150 men get murdered in under three minutes. Now he was currently in possibly the most dangerous position he could be in. A gun was leveled with his forehead by a man who was most likely mentally unstable and had no qualms about heartless murder. His eyes still trained on the gun he tried to reach for his own. "No silly Germany!" The gun was knocked from his hand and kicked across the ground. He heard the click of the safety being turned off and a metallic grinding as the trigger was pulled back. "Italy." That was the one thing that went through Germanys head. He had to live for Italy. In one wild motion to save his life he lunged for the barrel of the gun and dragged it down. As the trigger was released he felt a white-hot pain and a spreading numb feeling in his abdomen. "I've been shot." Was the only thought that ran through his head. But not in the head! He was still alive. The world swirled around him as he fell down on to his knees. The world was already starting to go black and fuzzy at the edges. He heard Russia's cooing voice. "Better this way, da? You get to suffer." And with that the Russian nation treaded away with his soldiers leaving the dying German on the battlefield. Germany didn't know how long he lay there, the heat slowing burning him as the pain grew and each breath grew harder to draw. He had to keep going. Italy, Italy, Italy. Just as the black was about to close in completely he felt a soft hand on his forehead. "Ludwig?" a voice murmured. Germany cracked his eyes open. "Feli…" he murmured looking into those beautiful amber eyes. "I-I am sorry…" he whispered._

The next morning Japan emerged from his tent around 8:00. His eyes were red and he looked exhausted. Even though it was still early the sun had heated up the earth, the air was heavy and thick, a storm was brewing. He wandered over to the camp food hall, as he pattered into the food hall the chatter immediately ceased. The many eyes of his and Italy's soldiers looked at him concernedly. He walked over to where the silver food trays were kept. He scooped some rice onto his plate and left it at that, he wasn't very hungry. He sat down at the end of the table; the soldiers seemed to understand that he wanted to be alone. Suddenly a shrill scream ripped through the morning air. It sounded like Italy; Japan was suddenly seized with terror. "What if the Russians had found the camp and attacked?" he thought wildly. He couldn't lose his two best friends. He didn't have anyone else. Rushing out in to the center of camp he had his sword drawn, ready for battle. As he turned the corner of the tent he was expecting to see the harsh gray of the Russians uniforms. All he saw was a perfectly undisturbed camp and a blue clad figure wailing while pointing to an empty spot on the ground. He sighed confused; even if the Italian was grieving this was weird. He noticed an Italian and a Japanese soldier who were both staring at Italy; he seemed to be screaming at them.

"Did you just throw him away?!" He wailed. "Put him out like garbage! Where is he?!" His screams grew more hysteric. He fell to his knees and rested his palms on the ground, his sob violent and harsh. Japan walked over him, kneeling next to him. "Itary? What's wr-happened?" Japan caught himself just in time. He almost asked Italy what's wrong. There were so many things wrong.

"Th-ey threw him away!" Italy yelled. Japan turned to the two men Italy's accusing finger was pointing at.

"What does he mean?" He asked the two men.

"We put Germany's body in the temporary Morgue. Italy freaked out." One said.

"Thank you, I can handre this." Japan nodded to the men. They quickly scurried away. Japan looked at Italy. "Itary Germanys body is safe."

Italy looked up at him and nodded his eyes dull. "Why don't you go nap, you rook tired." Japan suggested noticing the bags under Italy's eyes. Italy seemed deflated; he hauled himself up and stumbled towards his tent. Japan watched his retreating figure sadly. Soldiers were taking down the tents; Japan realized this was the day they were supposed to leave the camp. They were to depart at noon. They were running late. Japan felt tears prick at the back or eyes, if Germany had been here they wouldn't have been late. Japan held the tears back he couldn't cry. Not while everybody was watching. Burying his emotions he stood up. "I should wake up Prussia," he thought as he meandered over to Prussia tent. "Prussia!" He called "Can I come in?" Prussia grunted. Interpreting this grunt as a yes Japan opened the flap. As the flap swung open the beer bottles scattered around. The room stank of alcohol. The albino nation was slumped up on his bed, his gaze centered on the floor. "Prussia…?" Japan whispered.

"I hate him." Prussia voice was hoarse. His eyes were dull and sad. "He left me, the only person I ever cared about left me." He took a swig of his whiskey bottle "and I hate him for it." Japan stood there awkwardly. He wasn't quite sure if Prussia even knew he was there.

"Prussia… we have to go soon…" He said. Prussia looked up.

"Huh…" He slumped down father and took another swig. "GODDAMNIT WEST!" He suddenly burst out. Swinging his whiskey bottle to the floor. "You were so BIG, how could you fall little brudder." He sunk deflated, his head in his hands. Japan didn't now what do; he was never good in this category. He skirted around the bottles and tentatively put a hand on Prussia shoulder.

"It will be okay…" Japan trailed off. Prussia simply looked at him sadly.

By default Japan was now the head of the camp. Italy hadn't emerged from his tent and Prussia was drunk. Japan wandered around the camp making sure that the tents were packed securely and that everything was in order. By 12:30 the only tent left was Italy's. Japan turned to the soldiers. "You head out. Itary and I will catch up." The soldiers nodded and headed down the path. They disappeared into the heat. Italy at the moment was sprawled across the cot in his tent. He had his eyes wide open. Every time he closed them he would see him. It was torture but he'd rather not blink that have to live through losing his love again. He heard hesitant footsteps enter his tent. "Itary? We have to go…" Italy sat up. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He hiccupped slightly, Japans was again lost at what to do. So many emotions, helping Italy and Prussia had left him at lost about himself and how he was feeling. Japan almost felt angry, why did he have to be the rock why couldn't he have anyone to lean on? "Itary." His sympathetic tone had dissolved at his revelation. "We have to go." Japan spoke firmly. Japan expected a sort of whine from the nation but Italy merely nodded and stood up, his movements slow and pained like an old man. Japan regretted his firm tone, the Italian was hurt on the inside more then it appeared. Japan and Italy packed up the tent silently, a rare occurrence in the Italians presence. Finishing up Japan pulled on his pack, which contained the tent. Italy pulled on the other pack, which had the collapsible cot. They started heading down the dirt path when a loud clap of thunder rumbled through the sky, a slow patter of rain started up and soon grew to a roar. Italy and Japan started to hurry down the hill the rain making the muddy slope slippery and hard to walk on. Italy looked up, "Japan!" Japan looked at the Italian his quivering hand was pointing at the slope behind them the rainstorm had weakened the moisture deprived slope; it had started to roll and churn. The slope started moving towards them faster gaining speed and strength. "RUN!" Italy grasped Japan's hand and the sprinted down the slope. Knowing they couldn't keep ahead of the landslide for long Japan scanned the slope looking for a shelter of some sort. As the sprinted around a bend Japan noticed a crevice in the structure of the cliff. He pulled Italy towards it. Just as they ducked into the crevice the horrific mass and power of the landslide hurtled by where they had been moments before. The adrenaline still coursed through their systems as they leaned against the slimy cavern walls panting. The landslide rumbled by and it was all still. Now that they were actually in the cavern Japan realized one large flaw in his plan, they were trapped. The stonewalls had provided coverage from the deathly slide but had blocked the exit. He looked up at Italy; Italy's hazel eyes were wide with fear. "Itary, I…" Japan began then everything went black.

Prussia took a grateful gulp from the water canteen that had been offered to him. His head still pounded with the lasting effects of last nights drink. Leaning his head back against tree he was resting on he closed his eyes and relished the small shade after the grueling hike. BOOM. A loud roll of thunder interrupted his seconds of relaxation. Looking up he'd some how managed not to notice the dark clouds that had been growing above. "West would've noticed," he thought. A pang of grief stabbed him fresh again and he suddenly wanted another beer. The rain had started fast and furious, soaking him and the soldiers in minutes. "This can't be good for the hill" he heard a soldier mumbling to another. The hill! Japan and Italy weren't back yet! He stood up even though his body protested. "Hey you! Umm…" he tried to desperately remember the Italian Lieutenants name "Lieutenant Ganzer!" He barked the name coming to him. "Yes sir?" The cheerful lieutenant questioned.

"Where are Italy and Japan? Are they back yet?" Prussia asked, he realized a landslide was a dangerous possibility.

"No sir, we'll call their radio immediately." He saluted and started to walk away. Then he paused "Major Prussia, I'm sorry about your brother." He smiled sadly.

"Thanks Lieutenant Ganzer." Prussia grunted, something struck him as odd. "Wait, lieutenant are you Italian? Your names not…"

"No sir, I was born in Germany, In Meissen, it's along the Elbe River. I moved to Italy when I was 13." He smiled a far way look in his eyes as he remembered his quaint little village. Prussia realized this must have been he wailing Italian soldier and why he seemed sadder then the rest. Germany's death must have taken his toll on him as well. Prussia nodded; the Lieutenant disappeared into the crowd of soldiers. Prussia leaned back against the tree even though it was now soaking wet. Settling in for a short nap to help his headache he let himself relax. Thinking of a warm blanket snuggled up with his little Birdie he was about to drift off when he heard the harsh whirring of a helicopter cutting through the air. Grumbling he looked up a helicopters that were hovering above the camp. "Defensive positions" the commanding voice of Marshal Nakumara was heard above the din. The soldiers scurried to their positions. Prussia stood up and strained his eyes on the insignias on the back of the helicopter. An American flag. Gilbert sighed, Americans were annoying but the usually were fairly helpful. The helicopter spiraled down. As it neared the ground the dirt and leaves flew up and the wind whipped at peoples hair. The helicopter landed with a resounding thump. The helicopters blades slowed and the wind wasn't as strong. The helicopter door creaked open and a man in a tan military outfit and a leather bomber jacket jumped out. "Hey Dudes!" The cheerful American country waved enthusiastically.

"America, vhat are you doing here?" Prussia asked him his eyebrows quirked.

"To be the hero!" He laughed and his blue eyes twinkling. "Hey, wait aren't the German guys 'spost to be with you guys?" Even America who could be extremely oblivious realized he'd hit a nerve as an unusual solemnness settled over the crowd.

"Germany is dead." A voice spoke up from the back of the crowd. Prussia and America turned, it was Lieutenant Ganzer.

"What?!" America's eyes bulged. "How?" he sounded distressed.

"Russia." Prussia almost spat the name. "They were ambushed, Italy and Japan found them under the southern ridge." America's eyes narrowed.

"That…Commie Bastard! The wars over!" he closed his eyes for a second. "Wait? Where are Italy and Japan, anyways?" his brow crinkled and his eyebrows drew together.

"Japan and Italy are coming they came later." Prussia told the American Nation. "Lieutenant Ganzer? Have you heard from them?" Prussia turned to the Lieutenant.

"No sir, I radioed and all I got was static." America's eyes widened fearfully.

"Oh god, this is not good." He paced his hands on his head.

"Why? What happened?!" Prussia spoke urgently. He had sworn to his brother that he would protect his allies no matter the cost.

"Dudes there was a mega landslide on that path. I came to check on you guys…" America looked up. "We'll have to take my Helicopter up the slopes. They might have lived." Prussia took a deep breath. This was too much to handle. His brother dead and now the people he had promised his brother he would protect were in grave danger if not dead already. America headed toward the helicopter.

"Wait America! I need to come with you. Marshal Nakumara, Your in charge." Prussia strode toward the helicopter. America looked at him wonderingly. "I promised my brudder that I'd protect them." He answered the Americans unasked question. America nodded.

"Alright dude! Were the hero's!" America climbed into the helicopter. Prussia climbed into it next and strapped himself in. He pulled on the headpiece and watched the ground fall away below him.

Japan groaned, he was stiff and his back ached like he'd been sleeping on rocks. He opened his eyes. Rocks. Go figure. He pushed himself up but quickly fell and put his head down again. He had a monster headache and he couldn't quite remember where he was. He looked up again. Italy was dozing against a wall; each breath blew on his curl making it wiggle. Japan grit his teeth and pulled him self into a sitting position. As he leaned against the stonewalls of the cavern the memories of the day came back to him. Germany dying, Prussia drinking, the landslide. He leaned his head back. They were trapped. They was a small hole near the top of the pile that blocked there entrance but it was too small for Italy and there was no way to get up there. They were screwed. Italy had started to wake up. His eyes opened and he smiled for a second then his eyes clouded over and he frowned. "Were stuck here! And were going to die but I can't die! Then again maybe dying wouldn't be so bad because I'd get to see Ludwig, but I don't want to die now because I would be dying in a hole and that's what Lovi tells me to do when he's mad at me because he says I'm annoying or because he found me kissing Ludwig but what are we going to do! How are we going to get out! Ve~" Italy said this all in a matter of a few seconds his eyes were starting to pool over with tears.

"Umm… we can try to throw things out of that hole at the top so people might be able to see it…" It was the best idea Japan's weary mind could come up with. This seemed to please the Italian and he emptied his pocket and packs for things they could throw, Japan did the same. The had collected a pile of pasta packets, white flags, seaweed packets and red origami paper. "Lets not use the Pasta or seaweed we might need food if we don't get rescued quickly." Japan spoke logically; Italy was just pleased that he was able to keep his Pasta.

"Japan, before you blacked out you were trying to say something." Italy looked up at him questioningly.

"Oh" Japan lowered his eyes. "I wanted to tell I was sorry."

"Sorry? What for?"

"For getting us trapped. For not getting to Germany quicker. If I had been faster we could've saved him." Japan whispered. These thoughts had been plagued his mind all day.

"Japan, I don't blame you." Japan looked up. Italy was looking at him with the most earnest expression.

"Thank you." Japan bowed his head and wrapped the origami paper around pebbles so they could throw it.

"Japan, how do not cry? Every time I close my eyes I see him. When it's silent I hear him." Italy looked up at him. Japan sighed.

"I don't know, I don't let people in." he realized now why he kept his distance from everybody; he didn't want to suffer the consequences of lost. It was selfish but what choice did he have?

"Japan? Do you love anybody?" Japan looked up quickly. Love? He loved Italy as a friend and as well as Germany and Greece. He thought about it. He didn't have many friends, he could count them all on one hand and now one was dead. Italy, Greece, Germany and America. Who did he love? He looked at Italy.

"I don't know." He then busied himself with folding the paper around the rocks. He and Italy worked silently for a little bit. Italy had started to sing a song. "marukaite chikyuu, marukaite chikyuu, marukaite chikyuu boku hetalia…"

About an hour later they had created a decent pile of throw-able items. The started tossing them up towards the hole. Since the hole was pretty big most of the objects went through. After all the things had been thrown the sat down to rest and wait. Italy had fallen asleep and Japan was about to do the same when he heard the familiar chop-chop of helicopter blades. "Italy! A helicopter! Wake up!" Japan spoke urgently. The Italian slowly roused himself while Japan waited with bated breath. Suddenly a light shown through the hole and a loud voice was heard. "ITALY, JAPAN ARE YOU IN THERE!" It sounded familiar to Japan.

"YES! YES!" Japan and Italy yelled back. Japans throat felt hoarse he wasn't used to yelling.

"A rope will be thrown down. Italy, come up first." The voice said. A thick rope was sent down. It had a black harness attached to it. Italy strapped himself in. "When you are strapped in, pull the rope 3 time and grab on to it. Use your feet to push away from the wall." Italy tugged the rope 3 times and with a stuttered squeak he was lifted off his feet. He dug his boots into the wall and bounced off of it. Slowly he reached the top. The hole had been dug out so that Italy could fit through it. Japan watched as his boots disappeared out of the hole. "Japan! Do the same thing ok?"

"Hai!" Japan answered trying to place the voice in his head. He knew that it was somebody he had met. The rope was thrown down again and Japan strapped himself in ready to say goodbye to his earthy prison. He grabbed the coarse rope and gave it three quick tugs. The rope slowly started to move as he lifted off the ground Japan remembered to grab the top of the rope. He was extremely glad he did because it kept the rope from spinning. He used his feet to keep himself from banging into the wall. It was more strenuous then it looked. He reached the entrance of the hole. He scrabbled though. Just as he was almost through he let out a gasp of pain. His hand had caught on an extremely sharp rock. He could feel the blood dripping from his hand. "Japan? Are you all right?"

"Hai, its just my hand…ow." He felt a strong hand reach in to the hole and pull him out. Japan scrunched his eyes at the sun. The humid heat that had accompanied the days before had disappeared with the storm. After being stuck in a hole for 24 hours the cool air was welcome refreshment. "Hey? You okay?" Japan opened hi eyes. He was staring into the sky blue eyes of America.

"I'm fine." Japan closed his eyes again.

"Dude! Your hand!" Japan felt his injured hand be taken in Americas callused one. He felt him bandage it in soft cloth. He felt America pick him up bridal style, but he didn't care. He was too tired to care. Everything that had happened hit him in one moment. He now just needed to sleep. He fell asleep in America's arms. Warm and safe. Just as he was about to slip from consciousness he remembered Italy's question: "Do you love anybody?" He had the answere now. Yes, yes he did.

**YAY! 2****nd**** chapter done! **

_Der Grat! Wir sind hier! Halt : The ridge! We are here! Stop!_

_Verteidigungspositionen : defensive positions_

_Feuer : fire_

**Review please!**

** -Amy**


	3. Tears and Memos

**So you guys are lucky! I wasn't planning on finishing this chapter until mid-December. But I had an inspiration and finished it. It also helped that we had a snow day today! Yippee! This story is way longer then I planned, it was at most going to be 3 chapters. Well here we are at the 3****rd**** chapter and I'm not even at where I wanted to be by chapter 2! Oh well, just to let you know this will ay minimum be 5 chapters, probably more. Thanks you guys!**

**Chapter 3**

Japan grit his teeth and hissed against the pain. America was holding his hand and treating it with disinfectant. The familiar chop-chop of the helicopter blades helped Japan concentrate on something other then the pain, the blood, the warmth of America's hand… "Wait, WHAT?!" Japan mentally screamed at himself. "NoNoNoNo! Stop it!" He blushed a deep crimson when his eyes met America's. GAA! Why was he suddenly acting like a teenaged schoolgirl? Deep breathes. Deep breathes.

"How's that?" Japan looked at his hand. America had cleaned the wound and put some ace bandages around it.

"Thank you America-san. My hand is feering much better." He slid his hand out of America's grasp. Japan felt embarrassed. He had practically caught fire when he woke up leaned across America's chest. Luckily America, being America, hadn't noticed. Japan sighed and looked around the helicopter. Prussia, at the moment, was in the cockpit flying the helicopter. Japan wasn't sure that they should trust Prussia to fly a helicopter in his current state. He also had drunk enough beer to give at least 5 full-grown men alcohol poisoning last night. Italy was asleep against the wall, a small smile on his lips. Italy smiling left Japan feeling a bit better. It had been too long since he'd seen the nation smile, when usually you couldn't wipe one of his face. Italy turned over muttering: "Pastaaaa~" he sighed. America and Japan both smiled at the Italian Nation.

"He's taking this hard isn't he?" America looked at Japan. Japan sighed and nodded.

"We all are." America clapped Japan's shoulder.

"It'll be okay." America said without much conviction. Japan found himself leaning against America's shoulder and drifting off. As the day turned to night and stars appeared Japan eyes grew heavier and heavier. Prussia, who had been relieved of flying and handed the controls over to America, was already snoring next to Italy. The both looked somewhat closer to their old selves, Prussia had his usual smirk and Italy mumbled to him self about pasta in his sleep. Japan swore he had just blinked when he was being shaken awake by Italy.

"Japan…Japaaaaan." Italy poked Japan in the stomach. Japan made a small oomph sound and cracked his eyes open. They helicopter blades harsh sound was replaced with that of city streets and people. "Japan ve~! Come on, wakey-wakey!" Italy poked him again. Japan stretched as he stood up, his legs felt a little wobbly after the long helicopter ride. He pushed him self up. It was dark and the city lights had dulled the stars. "Are we in Itary?" He looked around.

"Yep! I'm dropping Italy off then I'll take you back to Japan." America told him.

"What about Prussia-san? Where is he?" He hadn't seen the Albino nation.

"I already dropped him off." America told him. "I called Canada as well, I don't think Prussia should be alone to long. I asked Canada if he would go over." Japan sighed in relief; he didn't want the broken and impulsive nation by himself either.

"Japan? Can you come home with me? I don't want to be alone either." Japan looked at the Italy. His hazel eyes were pleading and his shoulders slumped.

"I wirr stay with you." He murmured, even though he was sure Romano was home. Even if Italy didn't smile his mood seemed to have improved. Japan turned to America. "Thank you very much America-san. We are forever gratefur." He bowed slightly.

"Whoa! Dude, it wasn't a big deal." He grinned. "Take care you guys!" He hugged Italy and gave Japan a nod. "And guys," his voice was softer and less cheerful "I'm sorry about Germany, he was a good man." Italy nodded numbly and Japan felt tears start to prick at the back of his eyes.

"Good-bye America-san." With that he turned and followed Italy down the stairs to the streets. They were long gone before America replied.

"Take care, Kiku."

Prussia slammed his house door closed. Why? Why had America have to drop him off at this house? This was the house he shared with Germany. Every thing reeked of Germany, his perfectionism, the house was spotless; the smell of sausage still lingered in the air. Prussia groaned and leaned against the wall. He looked down at the ground by his hand. His eyes caught something out of place in the perfectly kept house. A small square of paper on the ground. He grasped it. It was a photograph. It looked it was taken a few days before they had left for the camp. It was in Italy's garden. Germany stood in the center he looked big and strong, a slight smile was evident on his face. Italy was leaning against his chest his hands grasping one of Germany's hands, which were resting on his shoulders. Japan stood off to the side smiling slightly at the cute scene. But what shocked Prussia the most was himself. He looked the exact opposite of how he felt. He had a large grin plastered across his face and one arm was slung across Germany's shoulders. Germany was looking at him with a face that's been a mix of irritation and amusement. Prussia felt himself start to choke up. "Mein Gott West…" he muttered. He stood up a walked towards his room. As he passed Germany's room his eyes caught on a bright yellow package. Pushing open the door to Germany's room he saw that it was immaculate, as usual. A thin square-ish package was on his bed; it was wrapped in bright yellow paper, the colour of Gilbirds feathers. Picking it up he saw simple white card underneath it. The card had a canary on the front. He opened it up:

_Liebe Prussia,_

_I've been writing this letter for a hundred years. Everything I've ever wanted to say to you. I don't know if I'll ever let you read it. Maybe before I die, or before you die. I almost hope that you will never be able to read it, because it means I will never see you again._

_Though most of the time you can be really irritating you are still my brother. You took care of me when I was little and made sure my childhood was happy even though yours was not. Some times you are an idiot. Most of the time you are an idiot. You can be extremely annoying. You drink too much, but I still love you. You have always taken care of me, some of my fondest memories are playing football with you in that big garden in our old house, or when you would sing me to sleep after a bad dream. _

Prussia smiled. Playing football with West had always been one of his favorite activities that was until West got good at it and would win by a huge margin. He felt another tear role down his cheek and splash onto the card. He looked back down at the card, now smudged.

_You made me laugh with your jokes and dances. I was secretly glad when you moved into my house, even though I may have complained, I was glad that I got to spend more time with you. Prussia, you will always be annoying and immature but I wouldn't want you to change that about you, ever. You will always be my big brother and I am happy that I will always be your younger brother._

_Ich Liebe Dich._

- _Germany, West, Ludwig Beilschmidt _

Prussia wiped at his eyes. He some how managed to control himself and not start sobbing. He picked up the package. It was heavy and felt like a book. He carefully peeled the shiny paper away. Inside was leather bound photo album. He opened the first page. Tucked inside was a small watercolour. Germany was standing with his arms stiff be his side. He was younger; he had the appearance of a young teen boy. Prussia looked at himself. He was taller then Germany but not by much. Where Germany looked stiff and serious, Prussia was the exact opposite laughing and casually leaning on Germany's shoulder. Prussia turned to the next page. It was a black and white photo of him and West. It was post World War 2. Prussia felt the tears start to fall, as he looked at his little brother. His face was drawn tight and he had large bags under his eyes. Even though Prussia knew Germany's government had beat him after the war he didn't show it in the picture. He stood tall and strong, with a stoic expression. One arm was looped under Prussia's arm, helping him stand. Prussia realized that the picture was taken just after he had been dissolved. He looked horrible, his hair was thin a flat and his eyes dull. If it was possible he was even more pale then usual. The picture was a testimony of how much the brothers cared for each other. A tear dripped onto the photo. Prussia turned the page no longer able to look at the tragic image. The next photo was on of him and Canada. They were sitting on a bench together snow falling around them. Canada had a red scarf and mittens, his hands clasped with Prussia's. There heads were leaning together they both seemed to be deep in thought, staring off into space. Prussia smiled, he missed his Birdie. The next picture was an oil painting that looked like Veneziano had painted it. It showed a young Germany, his brow was creased in concern. Prussia was crouching in front of him, his appearance was haggard. His head was wrapped in a bloody bandage and his military uniform was ratty and bloody. He'd obviously come from a battle. Despite his appearance he was smiling. Germany's hand was resting on the bandage, his expression looked almost scolding. The page crinkled as he turned to the next page. It was a picture of Denmark, England and Himself at Oktoberfest. He chuckled. They were all leaning on each other laughing, obviously intoxicated past the point that would be considered safe. In the corner of the photo you could see, Norway a beer in hand glaring half irritated and half amused at Denmark. America was laughing, looking a little buzzed himself. Canada was standing next to Norway his head in his hand. Prussia laughed. He remembered the next day when everybody was groaning and snappish because of there massive hangovers. Excluding Norway, because that little freak had the highest alcohol tolerance Prussia had ever seen. He had once out drunken Russia in a Vodka drinking contest. The next page was a small photo. This picture, unlike all the others before it, did not have Prussia in it. Instead it was a Picture of Germany and Italy, kissing. Prussia remembered taking this picture. He had snuck up on the two lovebirds kissing in the garden and had tried to snap a photo. It was a bit blurry because Germany had attempted to wrestle the camera out of his hand. Prussia chuckled but it turned into a sob. Never, never again would he be able to annoy his brother, play tricks on him, and just be with him. He would never see his brother again. The full realization of what had happened hit him like a wave, crashing around his ears. He curled up into a ball on the floor and sobbed. The last time he had cried… the last time he had cried West had been there to comfort him. He wasn't going to be there now. Never again.

Japan and Italy mad there way through the busy streets of Rome. Japan had forgotten how bad the drivers were in Italy and had to be pulled out of the way of speeding vehicles multiple times. After a very stressful walk they finally made it home. "Veneziano?! Where the fuck have you been?!" Japan turned. Romano, great. Japan usually got along okay with the grumpy nation, but at the moment he looked beyond pisssed. "Where were you? You're…" he looked down at his watch "…7 hours late!"

"Eh, I am sorry Fratello! There was an avalanche and…"

"Avalanche!?" Romano's angry tone switched to concern so fast that Japan considered the fact that maybe Romano was bipolar. "Are you hurt?" He rushed over to his little brother and searched his body for injuries.

"No, Fratello, I'm not hurt."

"Thank God…" Romano straightened up. "Oh, hey Japan. "Finally noticing that there was another person in the room. Japan bowed in greeting.

"Konnichiwa Romano-kun."

"Fratello, where is that stupid potato bastard, I need to give him a piece of my mind about letting you into an avalanche zone!" Romano turned back to his angry voice. Italy froze.

"Fratello…" he hung his head.

"What? What is it? Did he hurt you!?" Romano again showed signs of Bipolar disorder.

"He really needs to get that checked out…" Japan thought.

"No, No. Fratello… He…" He broke off in a loud sob. Italy clutched at Romano sobbing into his shoulder. Romano stood frozen for a moment, like a deer caught in the headlights of a car, and then slowly he wrapped his arms around his brother.

"Shhhh…Feli, I'll be okay." Japan felt like he was intruding on a very personal moment, he took a step back. Italy's sobs slowly quieted and he straightened up still shaking.

"He died." Italy barely said the words but Romano heard them anyways. His eyes widened and his mouth formed a small oh.

"Shower." His voice was firm and authoritative. "Now." Italy looked at him confused, but took heed to his instructions and clambered up the stairs to the bathroom. Romano turned to Japan. "What happened?" he scowled. No matter how much he hated the potato bastard he hated seeing his brother sad more.

"They were ambushed before they got to the camp. It was the Russians." Romano's scowl deepened.

"Fucking Vodka Bastardo." Romano collapsed on the couch in the entry hall. "You can stay the night in the guest room. Me or Feli probably have some old clothes that could fit you." Romano looked at him. "Actually, if you wouldn't mind staying here for a week or so, I have to head down to Sicily tomorrow. Mafia business."

"Yes. I can do that, it wourd be no troubre. Thank you for retting me stay in the guest room." Japan bowed and hurried out of the room. Romano scared him a little bit. Japan wandered down the long polished hallway. He heard a shower running inside one of the rooms. He opened the cherry red door that lead to the quest room. The room was spacious and had a welcoming feel to it. One side of the room had a wardrobe made out of a fine mahogany. There was a large window that was draped with crimson and cream curtain. It reminded Japan of a steaming plate of pasta. Speaking of pasta, he felt his stomach rumble. He was starving, he felt like his stomach had been deprived of food for weeks then stretched out. Ignoring his cramping stomach Japan sat down on the bed. The bed was a large four-poster and had a soft red duvet. Sitting on it felt like sitting on a cloud. The sheets were soft and silky and had a heavenly touch to them. Japan slipped himself into under the mountain of covers. He felt like he was wrapped up in bunny fur and laying on a sunny rock. It felt so good to be in a real bed again. "Goodnight…" Japan murmured to know one in particular. As he slept Italy finished his shower and slipped into his own bed. That night he didn't shed a tear.

_Knock! Knock! _ Prussia groaned. "Verrdamt…" He pushed himself away from the floor. His joints creaked and groaned as he stretched. _Knock! Knock! _ "Wer ist es?" Prussia called out his voice hoarse.

"Gil! Gil, it's Matthew." Prussia recognized the sweet and quiet voice of Canada. It was a voice he needed and sorely missed.

"Birdie?" He wanted to make sure his mind wasn't playing a cruel trick on him.

"It's me, can you let me in?" Canada sounded really worried.

"The door's unlocked." Prussia heard the familiar creak of the door that West had walked through so many times. Canada pattered into the room and slid down next to him.

"Hey…" His voice was quiet and comforting, that one word said so much more. That was one of the many things Prussia loved about Canada in that one word he had said: _I'm here for you and I love you, we will get through this together_. Prussia leaned his head on Canada's shoulder.

"Birdie? Vhat am I going to do?" Prussia sighed.

"Hmmm… What do you mean?" Canada looked at him questioningly.

"I- I'm not a… c-country anymore…" Prussia had to practically choke those words out. "West uniting with me was keeping me alive. Now that he's gone, what will happen to me?" Prussia held back a sob, ashamed of his selfish worries.

"Hey, you are Germany now. Don't you see? When he united with you he made a sacrifice. If anything happened to him you could still live on." Canada smiled reassuringly.

"That's West, making a sacrifice for me. What did I ever do for him?" The guilt that had been eating away at his heart for many centuries was finally confessed. He expected Canada to simply stroke his hair in comfort like he usually did whenever Prussia shared one of his insecurities. Instead he received a sharp whack to the head. "Oww! Birdie? Vhat the hell vas that for?!" he looked up shocked at his sweet Canadian boyfriend.

"You're an idiot some times! You think you never did anything for Germany?! You raised him! He would've died if you hadn't found him!" Canada's eyes flashed angrily. "Remember how sick he was when you found him? Spain told me that you didn't leave his bed for months while he was recovering!" Prussia hung his head.

"But, what he did for me? That day-…" Prussia trailed off remembering that fateful day:

_Prussia sat down in the meeting room. It was held in England's house today. Everybody seemed in better spirits. The war had ended. Germany seemed especially happier since Hitler had died. Prussia smiled fondly remembering the day they received the news. The February chill had seeped into the large stone room England always held his meetings in. Germany walked in with Italy both of them laughing. Almost every body was there, except the Allies. "That's odd…" Prussia mused. Canada, China and France walked in. They all looked solemn and a little angry. Canada sat down next to Prussia. Prussia sent him a questioning look. Canada bowed his head and avoided his gaze. The door creaked open again and the friendly hum the nation produced stilled. Standing in front of the shocked nations was the Allie leaders, the human ones. Joseph Stalin stood frowning next to Russia who had his usual small smile. Franklin Roosevelt stood next to Stalin, assisted by a cane. America was standing behind him his face had conflicting emotions. He looked mad, sad, worried and scared all at the same time. England was standing next to him; his trademark scowl had deepened considerably. Portly Winston Churchill looked solemn and a bit uncomfortable. "What are they doing here!?" Prussia looked up. Romano had stood up and was pointing an accusing figure at the countries leaders. "This is a nations only meeting, get the fuck out." He glared. Stalin leaned over to Russia and whispered something. Russia shook his head and then whispered back. _

_ "__Don't worry we are only delivering a message, we'll be out of your hair soon." Churchill spoke up. _

_ "__Why can't your nations do it? That's there job!" Switzerland looked threateningly at them a gun over his shoulder. _

_ "__Because I refused, as did England and Russia." America spoke up. "I don't like this." He growled aiming it at Roosevelt. _

_ "__I know Alfred, but you don't get much of a choice!" Roosevelt sent him a look. America scowled._

_ "__Are message is:" Stalin pulled out a note card. "The Allied forces: The United States America, The Dominion of Canada, The Republic of China, The French Republic, The United Socialist Soviet Republic and The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, have, in accordance to the signing of Law 46, officially dissolved the Nation of Prussia." The three leaders nodded. "Thank you for your time and I apologize for intruding." Roosevelt told them. They left, not that anybody noticed. Soon as the words had passed Stalin's lips the nations had all stood to look at Prussia. He was frozen, the words ringing in his head. Dissolved, the Nation of Prussia, Dissolved. The air around him was choking. Breathe, breathe, you have to breathe. Prussia drew in the air he desperately needed. That was a mistake. It felt like knives were stabbing and twisting around in his ribs, as he was ripped apart by flaming musket balls. He held his breathe. Holding his breathe he was able to get his bearings. He was on all fours leaning over the floor. Somebody-no-two peoples were kneeling by him. _

_"__Br-rud-er?" he croaked out. He gasped in pain. Talking made his esophagus feels like he had breathed fire and then drank a pound of acid. _

_ "__Prussia, come on bruder." West hand was rubbing on his back. "England! How do I help him!" Germany's angry voice assaulted the guilty nation._

_ "__Aaah- I don't know, he needs a country or land or something to represent quickly!" England stuttered his way through the explanation. The other nations quickly discussed land of things they could establish as Prussia's. _

_ "__He could use Quebec? They're always threatening to secede anyways." Canada timidly suggested. As usual nobody noticed him. Prussia just rolled onto his back and clutched at his stomach. _

_ "__Hey, hey, bruder, you can have East Germany." Germany leaned over and whispered. Germany didn't care that he would lose part of his strength and population. His brother had to live. He had cared for him and basically had been his father figure. "Take it, I don't need it." Germany looked at his brothers pale face. He gave a short nod. Relief flooded his face as soon as he nodded like the pain had been removed. Germany just sighed and hugged his older brother tightly. Quiet sobs started to shake Prussia's body. Germany just rocked him back and forth, like Prussia had done to him after a nightmare. The other nations turned away at the personal scene. Prussia and Germany just rocked back and forth, united as one._

Prussia was unaware he'd started sobbing while remembering the story. Canada was holding him the same way Germany had. "Don't worry eh?" Canada mumbled into Prussia's hair. He pressed a kiss to his fore head. "I Love you." Prussia was silent for a second, but it wasn't a cold silent it was a warm one that had so many loving words unsaid. He finally answered. "Ich liebe dich auch."

The cheerful morning sun scattered radiant little sunbeams around the room. Unfortunately those beautiful little beams ended up in a grumpy nations eyes. Romano squinted his eyes and growled. He raised his middle finger at the window as if this rude gesture could somehow cow a burning ball of flame and gasses. No such luck. Grumbling to himself he pulled his body out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans, a red t-shirt and a black blazer. Remembering to grab something for Japan he shuffled through his closet until he found some gray slack and a green shirt that might fit the small nation. He padded down the hallway to Japan's room and rapped on the door. "Hey, Japan? You up?" He called into the closed off room.

"I am up, Romano-kun. Do you need anything?" the Japanese nation sounded exhausted. Romano heard his stomach growl. Fuck, he forgot to offer him dinner last night, he was probably starving.

"I'm heading out! I've got some clothes for you! Help yourself to anything in the fridge." Romano told him knowing the Japanese nation would starve if not told it was all right to use his fridge.

"Arigato Romano-kun." Japan told him from behind the door.

"I don't know what the fuck that means but sure, see you later." Romano turned down the hallway to go say goodbye to his brother. Japan pushed the door open and grabbed the clean clothes. He slipped into the side bathroom and started the bath. Slipping off his grungy tank top and pants he felt much better. After the tub was warm enough he undressed completely and slipped into the steaming bath. He sat like that for an hour. He could feel his muscles relaxing as he sat in the steaming water. When he felt thoroughly relaxed and clean he pulled himself out and dried off using a large fluffy towel. He slipped into the clean clothes Romano had gotten him. The pants where a little long and the shirts shoulders were a little too wide but other than that they fit him pretty well. He wandered down the sleek hallways that were lined with the beautiful cherry red doors. Japan crept into the kitchen and was surprised to see that Italy was slouched in front of a bowl of cold muesli. "Good morning Itary." Italy turned to look at him and a small smile graced his lips.

"Good morning Japan! Do you want so muesli?" he offered the bowl to Japan. As an afterthought he added. "Germany loved this for breakfast." Japan took the bowl even though he was planning on having some toast. He bit into the crunchy cold oats and gave Italy a strained smile. God this stuff was disgusting. After he successfully managed to get the muesli taste out of his mouth (by drowning his taste buds in orange juice) he settled down on the coach to read. He loved Italian literature. Italy had wandered back into his room to change into some actual clothes. He had worn only his boxers for breakfast. Japan hadn't even tried to make him go change it would have been a futile effort. Italy wandered in dressed in blue jeans and a shirt with a… what Japan believed to be a dancing potato. Italy was odd. They had settled into an empty silence. Neither wanting to say the words that needed to be said. _Knockity knock knock – knock knock. _A rhythmic knocking interrupted their fragile silence. Japan wondered who it could be? Romano, maybe he had forgotten something. Knowing the only way to find out Japan stood up and answered the door. He was met with bespectacled sky blue eyes. "America-san, what a preasure to see you what are you doing here?" Japan gave a him small bow.

"Well, I just wanted to, you know, check up on you guys after… what happened." He trailed off not wanting to say the tragic truth. Japan smiled gratefully. "Is Romano home?" America asked his eyebrows quirked.

"No. He had to leave for Sicily this morning. I believe he's having trouble with the Mafia." America sighed in relief.

"Romano hates me. He's always calling me the Hamburger Bastard." Japan smiled sympathetically blushing slightly. Japan blushed even darker when he realized he was being very impolite and was leaving America out in the cold.

"Oh! I aporogize America-san, I am leaving you out in the cord." Japan quickly moved out of the way and let America enter. Italy peaked around the doorway, wondering whom Japan was talking to.

"Oh, hello America!" He sniffed the air. "Did you bring food?" His eye lit up, lighting up the hollow ghost of Italy that had been wandering around.

"Yeah, a casserole. It's kinda a tradition at my place to bring food, specifically casseroles, when a soldier, you know, dies…" He whispered the last word. He handed the casserole to Japan. Japan grabbed the hot tin, the casserole smelled like cheese and celery and noodles and sausage and, and…

"Is that tuna?" Japan looked at America hopefully.

"Umm… Yeah, I knew you liked it…" America broke off blushing. "Well I remember you saying something about it being your favourite." He smiled nervously.

"Arigato, America-san, I ruv tuna." Japan smiled for the first time in a long while.

"Dōitashimashite." America practically mumbled the Japanese response his cheeks burning.

"You know Japanese?" Japan asked incredulously. This was the same guy who claimed to speak only American.

"Sukoshi. I just learned some basic stuff you know…" He itched his neck. They both were caught in there own world of stuttering and blushing they didn't notice the mischievous smile Italy made as he looked between them. Italy was smarter then they gave him credit for. "Oh, and umm… England told me to give you guys this. He's helping to plan the… funeral." America squeaked as he held out a heavy-duty black folder that was labeled in neat silver writing: Germany's funeral plans. Japan took the folder solemnly. Italy's moment of happiness faded as realities crushing wall once again closed in around him. The Funeral. Of course there was going to be one. And of course somebody had to plan it. Little did they all know, England didn't just have a funeral planned, he had a much bigger plot, and it was going to require a little help.

**A/N: In Prussia's flashback it says: ****_"Germany seemed especially happier since Hitler had died. Prussia smiled fondly remembering the day they received the news…" Check out my story Puppets, specifically chapter 2 to see hos I imagined it. Puppets has small USUK in it, you can ignore that because this story and it are not in the same universe. _**

**Sooo… what did you guys think? Finally were getting to the part I've been itching to write since day one! Whoo hoo! I feel like I've been ignoring Italy and not having his emotion mentioned much. What do you guys think? Do I need more Italy? Anyways, Thanks so much for reading this!**

**- Amy!**


	4. Chapter 5

**Sorry! So I am going to have to put this story on hold until at least the end of december. It may be longer. Basically what happened is I'm "falling behind" on my school work. I got my quarter grade today (which doesn't count for anything I might add) and it wasn't pretty. I had only 2 A's and the rest were all B's. It may not seem horrible but my mom thought differently. She told me that almost straight B's were not acceptable and there was no way I was going to get into a good college with abysmal grade like these yadda yadda yadda. Never mind the fact that these grade aren't officially recorded, I'm in the 2 year advanced math class, nobody cares about PE, and my mandarin grade was just wrong. My mother has decided that the reason my grades were so bad is because of Hetalia. Even though Hetalia got me an A+ in social studies. Basically I can't use my computer unless its for schoolwork. Sorry, I will try to write during winter break! I will miss you guys!**

**- Amy**


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